


Breaking the Streak

by MyFirstistheFourth



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Boys Kissing, Charming Blaise, Dancing, Developing Relationship, Fluff, Groping, HP Interhouse Fest 2016, Humor, Lovable Neville, M/M, Romance, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2016-12-13
Packaged: 2018-09-08 10:07:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8840461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyFirstistheFourth/pseuds/MyFirstistheFourth
Summary: *Written for the 2016 HP Interhouse Fest on Live Journal*  Neville Longbottom was terribly unlucky, always had been...even in dating and romance.   It was only when he stopped fighting it, that the right person found him and broke his streak of bad luck for good.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RZZMG](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RZZMG/gifts).



"It's almost impossible to break a losing streak on your own."- Rosabeth Moss Kanter

{*} {*} {*}

_Why did he keep showing up to these things?_

All he ever managed to do was make a fool of himself if he did meet someone he liked. It had happened so often now that he approached every invitation with trepidation. One would think being one of the "heros" of the Second Wizarding War would make it easy for him to find companionship; and they would be correct to a point. There was never a shortage of witches or wizards who wanted to be seen on his arm; however, there were certain expectations that went along with being a hero and Neville never managed to live up to the hype. Male or female mattered not, he would invariably trip and spill wine all over his companion, stutter over a compliment, or manage the most inappropriate responses at inopportune times. When he was younger, he thought death from embarrassment was a real possibility for his life; after experiencing every conceivable variant of self humiliation, he now knew that the death was metaphorical and he would continue to live on to suffer anew.

He gladly would have stayed home tonight but this was the Anniversary Ball. It had been held at Hogwarts every year since the war ended to commemorate their victory and honor those who perished in the fight. Neville couldn't just not show up; however, he had chosen not to bring a date this year. For once opting to eliminate the chance of further epic failure. He had managed to drift among the crowd, nursing his drink while making small talk with friends and those he could scarcely remember. Now he was attempting to hide from the throng, tucked away at a corner table with a plate of hors d'oeuvres; surely he could avoid any doomed entanglements here. At least that's what he thought.

"For a moment I swore my eyes were playing tricks on me; one of our intrepid young heros dining alone. Whatever could it mean?"

Neville looked up to see Blaise Zabini, shoulder propped casually against a nearby column and two full glasses of champagne cradled gracefully in one hand while his other was tucked into his trouser pocket, an amused expression gracing his striking face. He had only grown more handsome over the intervening years since the war. Which was not good news for Neville who had always been secretly attracted to the exotic good looks of the man, regardless of what house he belonged to. _He looks bloody well fit,_ was what Neville thought first and foremost, but he was not about to share that bit of inner monologue. Neville had already learned his lesson the hard way and was trying his best to avoid another fiasco.

His mind instantly provided any number of responses to Blaise's query, not all of them necessarily nice. However, there was no malice in Zabini's words and he appeared to be genuinely interested in a response as he waited patiently.

'Ehm...in my case, it means I came alone. Less hassle really." He didn't notice Blaise's eyes brighten at that information, merely continuing the polite small talk as he assumed Zabini was only being sociable. "And you?" Gesturing at the champagne, he smiled a bit as he speculated, "You have a date somewhere waiting for that drink?"

Blaise chuckled. A low sexy sound that rumbled through his chest and straight down Neville's spine. Surprising Neville by sliding into the chair beside him and handing the second glass over, he finally answered, "No. I knew I'd be arriving late from a business meeting so I came alone as well. The champagne, I actually brought for you." At Neville's confused expression he shrugged, "You looked like you could use a fresh one."

Neville accepted the glass but couldn't wipe the somewhat befuddled expression from his face. Waiting for a reply of some kind, Blaise simply watched his tablemate, one eyebrow tilting in wonder at the delay. A sharp huff of breath and a look of dawning understanding on the Gryffindor's face broke the stalemate.

"Wow." Neville shook his head slightly, "I...erm, thank you for the drink. Sorry, I blanked there. I just wasn't aware that my personal patheticness had reached levels that would garner me pity from a Slytherin even. Cheers." Lifting his glass in a mock salute, Neville took a drink.

Blaise was staring in confusion when Neville set the half-empty glass back down. "I don't understand. Pity? Pathetic? I hardly think either point is based in fact. I brought you the drink because I wanted an easy way to break the ice so I could talk to you. Why would you assume it was pity?"

Neville did not quite smile, though the corner of his mouth quirked up a bit. "Surely you must have gotten the memo. In fact, by this point I am surprised it has not been on the front page of The Daily Prophet. 'Loser Longbottom, The One-Date Wonder'. Well...close enough to it I reckon."

Blaise chuckled, rubbing one long finger delicately over his upper lip, restraining his humor before he replied, "No. I confess, I have not received any such memo and I rarely read the Prophet's garbage so I would have missed that one should it have appeared." He smiled warmly at the wary Gryffindor. "I find it hard to believe that it can be as bad as you seem to think, at any rate."

"Trust me. Hero business isn't all it's cracked up to be." Neville picked up his glass and downed the remaining champagne, not certain why he was feeling so annoyed with himself.

Blaise did not seem phased however, eyeing the empty glass before he spoke again, "Another?"

Neville cut his eyes sharply at the man beside him, assessing his request before nodding slowly. "Thanks. I'd love another. Wouldn't mind something a bit stronger even." Blaise nodded, quickly summoning a passing house elf to request the drinks. When they arrived, he offered a firewhiskey to Neville and held his own glass up for a toast.

"To...changing perceptions. Salute!" He smiled broadly when Neville hesitantly raised his drink as well, the soft clink of glass sounding between them. "Now why don't you tell me just why you think you are a one-date wonder? I find it hard to believe you would have trouble dating."

"Why?" Neville wanted to retract the question as soon as the word left his mouth. He was trying to avoid humiliation tonight, but he was curious as to what Blaise was thinking.

Despite the history between them, Blaise had come over because he found a matured Neville quite attractive and he was curious. He had no idea how he would be received but he was also accustomed to taking risks. "Well, you have always been a fairly genial and kind person. You are smarter and braver than most people give you credit for and, in all honesty, I have to say you did fill out rather nicely. How could anyone not find you interesting enough to come back for a second date?" There was a faint pink hue gracing the tips of his ears as he finished but Neville didn't notice.

Neville's face heated with the praise from such an unexpected source, but the words did nothing to shake his personal views. With a loud snort, Neville gestured towards the dancing throng. "There are reasons to be sure. You could pick practically anyone from the crowd, male or female, and I have probably had at least one date that failed miserably." He took a sip before adding ruefully, "I might as well move to another country and start over considering I am running out of eligible options here."

"You have to be exaggerating!" Blaise was chuckling again, convinced Neville could not be telling the truth; finding himself completely charmed by the transparency and self-deprecation of the handsome man before him, traits notoriously absent from most of the company he kept. Neville's eyebrows raised in challenge and Blaise quelled his laughter. "Fine...fine. Let me see." He let his eyes scan the room before settling on a choice. "Hannah Abbott."

Neville visibly winced but gamely replied, "Hannah was one of my first dates after I had started teaching, not long after I took up my post as assistant professor of herbology. She was so excited to be my date to the ball that year. We had a nice enough time even."

Confused now, Blaise leaned forward. "But how did that go wrong?"

"Oh. Well, Hannah's parents were also at the ball. She had made such a big deal over my position and whatnot that they asked to see the greenhouses. To 'see' what I did. I was foolish enough to agree. I had told them to stick to the path and not to touch anything, and they all complied...technically." Neville took another sip of his drink and continued. "Mrs. Abbott was admiring the flowering plants and such, asking if there were some she should consider adding to her home garden. All perfectly innocent...up to that point. Then she leaned in to check one plant more closely, Hannah and Mr. Abbott following suit due to her interest." He could not help sighing as he recalled the night, rubbing one hand over his face in remembered dismay.

"And?!" Blaise was eager to hear the rest of the story, prodding Neville's elbow impatiently.

"Obviously, Mrs. Abbott had never seen a bubotuber plant and Hannah was so oblivious I'm amazed she passed Herbology in school. Anyway, Mrs. Abbott simply thought the pods looked interesting. Well imagine something thick and black, moving in the bed of plants with the low lights in the greenhouse at night and how an older woman might react." Blaise had already started to laugh softly imagining where this was headed. Neville nodded slightly. "She screamed loud enough to wake the mandrakes, though they were still neonates at the time, and shoved the others trying to move back. The sound and movement only aggravated the plant, causing several of the pods to explode, spewing pus over all three of them and their finery." Blaise was shaking with laughter now as Neville finished. "I made sure they got emergency treatment but they still spent a week at St. Mungo's to take care of the various lesions and rashes on their skin. I never heard from Hannah again." Pointing out the dancing young woman, he added. "That's her new husband she's dancing with." He glanced at Blaise. "That's only one example. But it's fairly par for the course."

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't laugh, I know. But it _was_ terribly funny. And I don't see why they held that against you? You did nothing wrong, it was their own ignorance that brought about their suffering." Neville only shrugged. Blaise began studying the crowd more carefully, certain he could find someone to stump his tablemate in what had to be false assumptions about his worth as dating material. He smiled triumphantly when he spotted Marie Beauchamp, the young professor from France who was teaching part time while apprenticing in Potions. "Mademoiselle Beauchamp?"

Neville shook his head sadly, "She was simply _far_ out of my league. I was hopelessly infatuated with her and made a fool of myself no matter what I tried. She began to avoid me at meals after the third or fourth dish or beverage I managed to spill down her robes in my clumsiness. I couldn't speak to her without stuttering in plain English but somehow I thought she would be impressed by my attempt to speak to her in her native language."

"Oh no! Don't tell me." Blaise knew Neville was smart in his own way but languages had never appeared to be a talent he possessed.

Neville nodded at Blaise's reaction. "She slapped me so hard the whole hall heard it. I can honestly still feel the sting today. Apparently I said something highly offensive. She berated me in French for a quarter hour before Headmistress McGonagall could calm her. I am now under orders to keep away from her until she returns to France. Just as well I suppose, nothing and noone has impressed her since she arrived."

Blaise reached out, cautiously placing his hand on Neville's forearm where it lay on the table. "I'm sorry. But if you ask me, it is her loss entirely. Anyone should consider themselves lucky to get to spend time with you." Neville didn't respond to that, but gave a soft huff as his cheeks pinked once again.

"Satisfied?" Neville asked, convinced he had given enough evidence to prove his uselessness.

Blaise grinned and sat back in his seat once more. "Not at all. I consider this a challenge. Let me see...you said male or female, right?" He had not known for sure that Neville dated either sex, but was pleased to have it confirmed since he had approached the man with a purpose. At Neville's nod, he narrowed his gaze on the swirling dancers and his target demographic. Choosing the nearest male, he blurted out. "Seamus Finnigan."

"No. No way." He noticed Blaise's puzzled expression and smiled. "Dean would never let me near Seamus. They will be bonded in the fall."

A silent 'Oh' framed Blaise's mouth as he nodded his understanding, quickly returning to his searching. "Ernie Macmillan?"

"You'll have to give me a pass there. Ernie just isn't my type."

"Fine. Though I do have to point out that I have in fact found one person with whom you have not had a disastrous date. Two in fact." Blaise was having a lot of fun bantering with Neville. A sudden memory from school days struck him and he threw out another name, not even knowing if the person was at the ball or not. "Cormac McLaggan!"

Neville actually rolled his eyes, smirking with mirth. "Blimey! Not even I am that desperate, Blaise." For some reason this struck both of them as incredibly funny, setting off a hearty laugh that brought tears to their eyes.

When they quieted, the conversation picked right back up as though there was never a pause. "That's still two I've named, Longbottom. Your theory is looking shaky from where I'm sitting." Neville punched his arm goodnaturedly and the game continued. "So whatever happened with you and Lovegood? I heard the two of you were pretty serious after the war."

Neville shrugged, "We're still really great friends and I suppose it was silly, or it would be to anyone else. In her words, Luna couldn't commit herself to a mass murderer." The look of pure shock on Blaise's face almost set Neville laughing again but he managed to restrain the worst of it.

"She fought in the war as well! How dare she hold defending yourself against you!" Blaise blurted out in offense.

"Oh she wasn't holding the war against me." Neville paused for Blaise to absorb that information. "No, it was the nargles." He ignored Blaise's snort and his own lips quirked in an attempted smile but he managed to continue seriously. "Apparently I was guilty of murdering a large community of nargles when I helped Flitwick clear away the holiday decorations after the first Christmas following the war. She saw me tossing the old mistletoe onto the bonfire and that was it; said she couldn't see herself with a person who had such a callous disregard for defenseless magical creatures."

Blaise was laughing again and Neville really couldn't blame him; it didn't hurt that he found the sound delightful. "Oh man! You do have the darndest luck, Neville. I need another drink, but not without some food. Would you care to join me at the buffet?"

Neville's plate was long ago emptied so he nodded and rose to follow his unexpected companion to the heavily loaded tables. He was surprised at how comfortable he was feeling. With Blaise Zabini of all people! Neville tried to tamp down on the fledgling sense of hope he was feeling. He knew better; despite the ease between them thus far, it was only a matter of time before he screwed it up.

They spent the next hour eating, drinking, and continuing to explore the lengthy trail of Neville's relationship failures. The truly odd thing, was that Neville didn't mind discussing it with Blaise. The dark beautiful Slytherin did not make him feel like a loser at all, rather he smiled, laughed, and encouraged Neville; frequently reinforcing when the failure of a date was not in fact his fault. It took a while for Neville to notice a certain gap in Blaise's inquiries.

"You know, I have dated Slytherins too."

Blaise looked briefly startled, then chagrined. "I apologize. I guess I assumed you would steer clear of anyone associated with...bad memories, perhaps."

"The war is over, Blaise. People change. Everyone at least deserves a chance." With far more confidence than he had felt earlier in the evening, Neville gave Blaise a cheeky wink. "I'm talking to you, aren't I?"

It was Blaise's turn to stumble. "I...eh, yes, I suppose you are at that. So you tell me, which of my Slytherin brothers or sisters have you attempted to woo without success?"

"Woo?" Neville's eyebrows peaked high on his brow though his eyes sparked with mischief and merriment, a great improvement from the start of the night. "I hardly think I would call any of those dates wooing." They laughed easily together before he began to answer. "I had one date with Tracey Nettlebed."

Blaise promptly intervened, "Oh man! No offense to you, but I bet that went well."

Neville's head tilted sagely in agreement. "Indeed. She was only after what she could get for herself from dating me. It wasn't hard to suss out, she started digging and prying before we ever sat down for a drink. I wouldn't have put it past Rita Skeeter to have paid her for information...or to be following us with that vile quill of hers for that matter. No. That is one date I ended myself, quickly and without guilt."

"So the track record for Slytherins is not off to too good of a start. Who else then? I hope someone at least made a better show of it than Nettlebed." Blaise felt antsy waiting to hear the rest but forced himself to remain still in his seat.

"Oh there were certainly some that I thought had a better shot at working out. Adrian Pucy was a very decent guy honestly, and we got on pretty well. We at least had more than one date before things soured." Neville sighed staring blankly at the enchanted ceiling. "I kind of thought we could have been more but in the end we were too alike in temperament and too disparate in interests. The chemistry just wasn't right. But that seems to be the way things go with me."

Blaise felt a curious twinge in his gut; hearing that Neville had considered an actual relationship with a fellow Slytherin gave him a heady rush of hope he had to quickly pull into check. "Anyone else? Or did you give us up after that?" He tried to keep his voice light but anxiously awaited the answer.

"Well, there was Daphne Greengrass but she really doesn't count. That date ended before it could start." Blaise's confusion was clear to see so Neville explained. "One of my Gran's busybody friends 'arranged' for me to have a date with a proper pureblood family. You know how the older generation still holds to certain values. I could hardly say no without offending the lady and embarrassing Gran. But Daphne somehow found out who her proposed date was and her family swiftly put a stop to it."

"I can imagine. The Greengrass family wouldn't allow their pride and joy to be seen in company with a blood traitor, especially a famous one who stood against Voldemort himself." Blaise shook his head, ashamed for the truth of it. "I'm sorry about that." Perking up with a bright smile he spoke, "You know, you did almost have me convinced there for a minute...but not quite." Blaise stood, pushing his chair back from the table. "Now, I believe it is high time that you asked me to dance, Neville Longbottom."

"W-what?!"

Blaise ignored the outburst, carefully smoothing his clothes and giving Neville a tantalizing view of his arse before he spoke again. "What do you mean 'what'? I have very vivid memories of watching you work your way around the dance floor most expertly during the Yule Ball. And I am quite certain that you still... _have the moves_." The insinuation was clear in his voice, raw sex appeal dripping from his honeyed tongue as he held his hand out to Neville. "I have been most patient all evening, but now I want to dance...with you."

Neville rose slowly from the table, impossibly drawn to Zabini. He finally slid his hand into the waiting palm. "But...I-I don't want to mess things up this time. Tonight has been a very pleasant change from my usual dates."

Blaise laughed soft and low as he moved into Neville's arms, allowing him to naturally take the lead as they swirled onto the dance floor. Just as they began to turn in time with the music, Blaise whispered into Neville's ear. "You aren't messing up at all. As for dates, I don't count as one since you haven't actually asked me out."

Startled, Neville snapped his head up to meet Blaise's warm chocolate eyes. Realizing he only saw happiness and certainty there, a large grin split Neville's face as he pulled his gorgeous non-date more firmly against his body and began to spin them effortlessly around the dance floor.

They chatted easily, allowing themselves to cover other topics beyond Neville's dating history, discovering mutual interests in medicinal plants, arcane history, and travel. As it turned out, Blaise was Draco's silent partner in his apothecary business so he knew more about plants and potions than Neville would have expected. Likewise, Neville surprised Blaise with his knowledge of history and cultures, apparently spending his time away from Hogwarts traveling. Blaise had never met anyone as truly charming as Neville; the boy he had known at school long replaced with a man of warmth, humor, and unassuming grace. A man of real worth in the sea of bin bag knockoffs Blaise himself had been swimming in for the past few years. Others may not have appreciated what they had when they dated Neville, but Blaise had no intentions of making the same mistakes.

After four dances, a break for the loo, and something cool to drink, they were back on the dance floor. They had just spun past Draco; the blonde wearing a very surprised look on his face when he saw whom his business partner and best friend was dancing with. Blaise saw it, prompting him to laugh out loud at a sudden thought. "You know, at least I know you've never dated Draco. For one thing, you probably wouldn't dare, and for another, I would have heard about it if you did." It took a moment for Blaise to realize Neville wasn't laughing...or speaking. They had stopped moving, standing in the circle of each other's arms when Neville's head dropped onto his shoulder with a low groan.

"Sweet Merlin. Please don't ask about him."

Blaise was stunned. There was no way Draco had been on a date with Neville and not told him about it. They shared everything, always had; why would this have been any different. He could tell Neville wanted to let it go but his own curiosity demanded satisfaction. "Honestly, I think I'm going to require a bit more explanation about that comment." He managed to cover his rabid desire to know with a teasing smile before Neville looked up.

Neville raised his head slowly, glancing around before taking Blaise's hand and tugging him back to their table in the corner. Only then did he speak, lowering his voice to a near whisper. "It was an accident." Before Blaise could even ask how, Neville took a deep breath and continued. "We were set up by some muggle friends at a masquerade. They didn't know the history between us, merely thought we would make a good match. You found your date according to complimentary costumes." Vivid memories of his night with the naughty blonde "schoolgirl" with "Daddy issues" wearing a black lace mask that matched to his muggle professor's costume and mask welled up, bringing a heated flush to his face while he forcibly kept himself from looking up to find Draco again. "We were having a great time." _And well on our way to sharing a bed_ , Neville's traitorous mind supplied. "At least until the masks came off." He didn't miss Blaise's sharp intake of breath and nodded soberly. "Yes. If we hadn't been among muggles at the time, I am quite certain my cock and bollocks would have been hexed clean off. If the look on Draco's face was anything to judge from." He didn't want to look at Blaise as he finished. "We agreed to pretend it had never happened and that we would never speak of it." The reminder jolted Neville with another thought as he grabbed Blaise's hand with a panicked expression on his face. "You can't let him know I told you! I wouldn't put hexing past him even now."

Blaise suspected there was far more to the story than Neville had shared but he also knew Draco well. He had every reason to suspect that this was one subject it would be best not to push on. "I hardly know what to say. But you are correct, Draco is zealous about protecting his secrets...even now. I'll forget I asked, let alone that you had anything to tell."

Neville experienced a sudden surge of overwhelming relief and awe, hardly believing that Blaise would let such a juicy tidbit go. That certainly wasn't like other Slytherins he had known. Remarkably Blaise had shown himself repeatedly to be unlike almost anyone he had been out with before. Neville was feeling so good, he forgot to be nervous. He stopped worrying about how soon he would mess up; instead, feeling more confident than he had in ages, Neville leaned closer to Blaise. "So...care to sample my moves again?" Neville held out his hand, "Back to the dance floor?"

Blaise wanted to sample some moves alright, preferably the kind you should only experience in private; however, he hadn't even managed to get Neville alone yet. "Actually, I was thinking of getting some fresh air. Would you care to join me?" Neville shrugged good-naturedly and followed Blaise out of the Great Hall and onto the grounds, enjoying the unobstructed view he had of Zabini's arse. They followed one of the many winding paths around the castle, walking side by side, chatting softly, and admiring the stars in the early summer sky until Blaise grabbed Neville's hand and pulled him beneath one of the ancient gnarled trees dotting the grounds. The tree's branches were heavy with foliage, hiding them from all but the sharpest eyes and creating an intimate hiding place.

Neville was alone with his former enemy but he was not afraid. In fact, he was enjoying a mounting sense of excitement punctuated sharply when he found his back lodged against the solid mass of the tree trunk with Blaise pressed against him as he brought their lips together for the first time. It was quite possibly the best kiss Neville had ever had, lasting long enough to have them both panting when Blaise pulled away.

"I've been waiting all night to do that!" A pleased smile split his face, putting those chiseled cheekbones into sharp relief; his eyes sparkling with restrained excitement even as his dilating pupils gave him away. Not that the growing bulge pushing against Neville's hip wasn't obvious enough.

Neville returned the smile easily now, certain his own pupils matched Blaise's. "If I am being honest, I have probably been waiting even longer." He smirked at the startled look on Blaise's face briefly before he shifted his weight, spinning them sharply until he was the one pinning the dark beauty against the tree. This time he took control, snogging Blaise within an inch of his life, one hand gripping the back of his head and the other clutching one taut buttock as he pulled them impossibly closer, grinding their erections together more firmly. He reveled in Blaise's long fingers clutching at his waist and shoulder respectively as well as the soft moan he heard bitten off quickly when he released kiss swollen lips and trailed his own in a heated path down the smooth chocolate throat. Emboldened by the response he was getting, Neville dared as he never had before; somehow, tonight...he didn't think he was going to screw things up. Not any longer...not with this man. "Care to take this somewhere more private, Blaise?"

Blaise Zabini found himself in the rare condition of struggling to speak and apparently about to get exactly what he wanted. "I-I'm...yes! My home is just an apparition away and we'll have it all to ourselves...if you like?"

It was Neville's turn to chuckle darkly against Blaise's throat, nuzzling into the curve of his collarbone before raising his lips to brush across one ear. His voice husky with arousal as he spoke, warm air caressing Blaise's skin and making him shudder. "That is certainly an option; however, my quarters are just a few meters away." He pulled back to study his companion and the effect he was having, cocking one eyebrow in invitation. "If you'd care to join me."

Blaise had every intention of doing just that, taking Neville's outstretched hand as they headed back into the castle at a mutually agreed upon brisk pace. Though neither man said a word, they had a very good feeling that Neville's streak of dating misfortunes had finally come to an end.

{*} {*} {*}

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: IrelandSpades** is a Saint for putting up with me and my fest addiction! She tolerates me and still does an excellent job as beta, brightening everything I write and trying to clean up my messes. I am Constantly grateful for her! **Her Royal Goddess (FF)** is another marvelous asset, Brit-picking and offering me native insight when needed. I always appreciate her promptness, skill, and encouragement. This story was not a new pairing for me but definitely a new dynamic. I wrote more humor than angst for once. HAHAHA I hope you guys have enjoyed the results. :-D Cynthia


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